Posted in Poetry, Prose

She loved, the Rain

Walking
hand in hand
our faces glowing
in the falling
rain,
she told me,

Together with you
sitting by the fire
our faces glowing
in the warmth
of the embers,
I replied,

I gave her an umbrella, while
She gave me a bag of charcoal

-and we never saw each other
again….

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Author:

Just an American lost in Denmark. The past few weeks being back in the good old USA. It is like Aliens have taken over my mind, changing it from what I knew to what I know. It might be the heat, or it might be the influence of hearing English 24 hours a day, but whatever the cause, it is only temporary while dealing with this time and space.

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